The Lost Missions
by Angel Erin Arcturus
Summary: The missions that most definitely would not have happened even if Price, MacTavish, Ghost, and Roach had worked together in Task Force 141 for a few years.
1. The Mexican Oil Rig

Chapter 1: And This is How We Roll

Captain Price smacked Roach with his hat.

"Now listen up, this is very important," Price said angrily. "the creamer is in the orange container and the pepper is in the gray container. Got it?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Now get down to the briefing room. I'll meet you there in two minutes."

Roach scurried off to the briefing room as fast as he could. That meant going down five flights of stairs. He finally reached the briefing room, a little out of breath, where MacTavish and Ghost were waiting.

"Hey Roach, pass me the creamer. It's in the orange container," MacTavish said.

Roach hesitated. He was colorblind, but no one had figured it out yet, and he didn't feel like telling them. He might be removed from task force 141 if he couldn't see colors right. He grabbed the one which was a different shade of gray from the one he had put in Price's coffee and passed it to MacTavish.

"I hear this one's going to be a regular mess," Ghost said pessimistically.

"Certainly. We don't stand a chance in hell. That's why _we_ are the ones doing it," MacTavish said.

"Just like old times. How much are they paying you?" Ghost asked MacTavish.

"A hundred-thousand a year. You?"

"Balls. I'm only getting eighty-thousand a year," Ghost said angrily.

"And dental, I also get dental," MacTavish said, grinning.

"Bloody hell! They didn't even mention that to me! It's as though they think we brits don't care about our teeth."

"When was the last time you brushed?"

Just then, Price walked into the briefing room.

"Alright, listen up gentlemen. We've been ordered to blow up a Mexican oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico."

"Why? I thought we were friends with Mexico."

"Can that hippie shit, Roach. We don't ask why, we just do it."

"What about the workers?"

"Screw them. We're blowing it up. We've been issued one-hundred pounds of C4 for the job," Price continued, more than a little miffed.

"One-hundred? How many oil rigs do we need to blow up?" Ghost asked.

"Shit, will you let me finish?" Price all but shouted. "We go in, we get out, we get it done. Got that?"

"Yes," they all groaned.

Price fiddled with his mustache for a minute and said, "Then let's get going."

They took the elevator to the helicopter pad where Nikolai was waiting. They loaded up their guns, the C4, and a guidebook to Mexican tourist hotspots. After three hours, they were dropped into the sea at Price's not-so-gentle direction. They swam the rest of the way to the oil rig. Two men in ponchos and sombreros were talking on the platform closest to the water, waving their weapons around as they talked about Eddie Murphy. Roach and MacTavish quickly killed them with their aglets and took their weapons.

After planting the C4 at the base of the rig, the three of them crept up the flight of stairs to the next floor where one guy was vomiting over the railing and his buddy was draining a bottle of tequila. Roach stabbed the man who was vomiting and Ghost hit the man who was drinking in the gut with his knife. The man clutched at his stomach, inhaling tequila into his lungs. Ghost cut his throat, spilling as much tequila as blood and they rushed to the doors of a room nearby. They kicked the door down and shot the men inside who were in their underwear and had bottles of alcohol duct-taped to their hands. They charged up through the oil rig, killing any Mexicans they found. Eventually they reached the top of the oil rig.

"We're ready to go, Nikolai! Whenever you're ready!" MacTavish said into his mobile phone.

"I hear you loud and clear, comrade! I meet you on helicopter pad in three minutes."

Roach leaned against a rusty railing and looked down at the sea a hundred feet below. Naturally, the railing being as corroded as it was, it broke and he fell. Three minutes later, after jogging his way back up, Roach joined Ghost and MacTavish in the helicopter.

"Have a nice swim?" Ghost asked cheerfully.

"The water's nice this time of year," Roach said, smiling.

"Where should I drop you off, comrades?" Nikolai asked.

"Cancun," MacTavish answered, squeezing the activation trigger.

"In that case, I think I'll stay for a while, comrades," Nikolai said as the oil rig was replaced by a gigantic fireball.


	2. Columbia

Chapter 2: .22s

Captain Price whapped Roach with his cool hat.

"What on Earth were you thinking, soldier?" Price barked.

"They were really cheap! I thought you would appreciate it," Roach scrambled to explain himself.

"What is there to appreciate, you pathetic excuse for a target?"

"Price," MacTavish said, "whatever he did, he thought it was for the best. Does he really deserve it?"

"Of course he deserves it! Who the hell buys five thousand .22 rounds? We don't even use those!"

"Ouch. Sorry, Roach, but that's pretty stupid."

"I was thinking about putting him on guard duty in Algeria as punishment, but then I had a better idea. I'm sending you boys to Columbia. Our forces there blow a thousand of those creeps to pieces every day, but they just keep coming. And they keep stealing the equipment we ship over, too. That's why I'm deploying the three of you with those .22s. See, if they take those, it's no big problem, but you three should be able to do some damage with them."

"Price, not wanting to be a bother, but, what the hell?" MacTavish exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," said Price, completely ignoring MacTavish, "They're going to cut our budget if we don't get some results soon."

"Are you trying to get us killed?" MacTavish asked hysterically.

"Really? You have to ask?" said Ghost, taking a big gulp of whiskey through his mask.

"You have a point."

"Load up and move out, you ninnies!" shouted Price, storming out.

The grey plane dropped them in Medellin. For those of you who have never been to a residential area in a third world country, which I wager almost none of you have, you know that they are infernal warrens inhabited by a mixture of timid rabbits and diseased hounds. Places like these are bound to be filled with criminals. Immediately after landing, they were set upon by miscreants of the worst description. MacTavish and Ghost sprinted for cover behind a car resting on cinderblocks while Roach rolled under a wooden deck.

"Where'd the ammo land?" shouted MacTavish over the gunfire.

"I think it landed two streets over," shouted Ghost, throwing a cinderblock at an assailant, who died.

"Roach! Can you crawl over there and get any?"

Roach, from his position under the wooden deck could see the ammo drop, which it just so happens had landed on a man with an assault rifle. He scurried from the deck to the airdrop and pulled the canvas off. He tore open a box and grabbed five smaller boxes of ammo. He hurried back to where Ghost and MacTavish were hiding.

"Great work, Roach!" shouted MacTavish, snatching a box and dumping most of the contents into his .22.

"Wish I had a semi-auto," remarked Ghost, pumping his .22.

"Die, Panamanian scum!"

"I think they're Cambodian," yelled Ghost.

"Columbian," corrected Roach.

"Be a good lad and fetch us some more ammo while the big boys talk," shouted MacTavish, popping a Columbian in the forehead.

Ghost tossed his .22 onto a roof and climbed up the side of the wall with his fingertips in the crevices between bricks. On the top of the wall, he kicked a man with a gun in the face and threw him off the building, onto a passing jeep full of terrorists. MacTavish followed, running up the wall, aided by a bungie cord attached to a skateboard. Roach remained on the ground, taking down any enemies that came near him with his .22 and his three-inch pocket knife.

"Roach! I can't see anyone else! We're movin' to the extraction point! Grab the last three hundred shells and meet us there!" shouted MacTavish.

After he had snagged the shells, Roach climbed a nearby building through use of a fire escape and jogged to the exit point, aware that at any moment, Columbian guerrillas could arrive and shoot him. He reached the extraction point a few minutes later, only falling off the roof two or three times. Nikolai was waiting for him there with MacTavish and Ghost in the helicopter.

"What took you, Roach? Get lost again?" asked Ghost.

"Cut him a little slack, Ghost. Roach has found more enemy intelligence than you and I put together."

"Yeah, but it still takes him a long time to do anything."

"Let's just forget about that. I've booked us a stay at the best hotel in Columbia."

"Good thing I brought the bug spray," snorted Ghost.


	3. Team Deathmatch

Chapter 3: Bloody Campers

"I can't believe it!" shouted Price as only Price can.

"Yeah! Who took my flask?" asked Ghost.

"Not that! You bunch of idiots never even passed basic training!"

"Is that really important? I mean, we already take fifty rounds in the head and shrug it off and shoot jets flying two miles overhead out of the sky with a couple pistol rounds. Do we really need it?"

"Do you really need it?" shouted Price in incredulity.

"Here's the part where he tells us why we need it," whispered Roach.

"We don't get as much for medical coverage if you are badly injured in the field."

"Wow, I didn't know you cared," said MacTavish, taken aback.

"Of course, as senior officer, I get ten percent of any bonuses or government issued insurance checks.

"Well… that's heartwarming," said Ghost.

"I've arranged with an old friend of mine for you to take a shortcut course. He told me that there were three options: a multiple-choice test, a month running an obstacle course and marching the parade ground, or Team Deathmatch."

"Test," said Roach.

"Obstacle course," said Ghost.

"I love parades," said MacTavish.

"Calm down men, I spared you the decision. I signed you up for a Team Deathmatch."

"Why am I here, again?" asked Nikolai.

"We needed an eighth man for the team, so I volunteered you," said MacTavish.

"Who are the other four?" asked Roach.

"The most recent Delta Squad."

"Most recent?"

"We go through a lot of Delta Squads."

"So where are they?"

"They like to arrive in style," said Ghost.

"In a chopper," elaborated MacTavish.

Right on cue, a heavily armed helicopter flew over the palm trees to their left and dropped a rope to the ground. Three men slid down, one after another. Before the fourth man could descend, two RPGs collided with the chopper, which violently exploded, forcing everyone to duck for cover. When the chopper had landed a full thirty yards away and debris was no longer a hazard, they crawled out of the bushes.

"Aw!" groaned Roach, "Dog crap on my fatigues."

"That's the least of our worries now," said MacTavish. "Alright, men, we need to get to the weapon crate as quick as possible."

The seven of them marched off through the jungle.

The Delta trooper in front was hit midstride by the bullet. He didn't drop, hardly even flinched. The bullet had passed through one of his legs.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be fine."

Then another bullet hit his other leg and he died.

"Everybody get down!" shouted MacTavish. "We're dealing with a sniper!"

"What do we do?" asked Roach.

"Ghost, Nikolai, get ready for a Decoy-Orange-Hot Pocket."

Both of them nodded an affirmative.

"Roach, keep down, but lift that dead soldier into a sitting position so his head comes out from behind that log."

Roach did what he was told. The corpse was suddenly torn from his grip as his head erupted in a bloody fountain. Ghost then popped up and threw his spare knife, catching the sniper in the forearm, an automatic kill. Two men in ghillie suits jumped out of the trees, submachine guns at the ready, but MacTavish and Nikolai killed them with Bowie knives and snagged the firearms.

"Roach, climb that tree! We need to find out where the rest of them are!"

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Ghost asked MacTavish. "Roach falls off stuff a lot."

"Of course it's a good idea."

Roach climbed up a nearby tree and looked around.

"What do you see?"

"D'aw… There's a cute mommy robin up here. Cute little baby birds! Who's a cute little baby bird? You are! Yes you are! Is this your little brother? He's a cute one too… Here, mommy robin, want a Snickers?"

MacTavish turned to Ghost, "Let's hope he never has kids."

"Don't think we have to worry about that."

Roach screamed for all of five seconds and hit the ground.

"Told you."

"It was so cute."

"Get shot?"

"The mommy bird bit me."

"I see."

"And it hurt."

"Uh-huh."

"A lot."

"…"

"Did I miss something?"

"Did you see any sign of them while you were up there, Roach?" MacTavish groaned.

"Sure. The rest of them are about two miles southwest."

"Huh?" huhed Ghost.

"Problem, Ghost?"

"What's that in kilos?"

"Are you drunk again?"

"No. I just can't keep track of those stupid Yank measurements."

"It's uh… five- No, wait. Six- five... Er… Never mind. Let's just walk southwest until we find them."

"I still don't have a gun," said Roach with hand raised.

"I still don't care. Nikolai, ready?"

"Locked and loaded!" shouted Nikolai, raising the scoped rifle high.

"Then let's move out!"

_Three hours later, and twenty feet closer to the enemy._

"Roast beef!"

"Ham!"

"Roast beef!"

"Ham!"

"Roast Beef!"

"This isn't solving anything," said Nikolai.

"So how do we decide?" asked MacTavish.

"Turkey," said Nikolai.

"I still say Roast beef."

"Ham!"

"Turkey."

"Roast beef!"

"Ham!"

"Turkey!"

"Roast beef!"

"Ham!"

"Can I suggest salami?" asked Roach.

"No!" was the resounding answer.

"Aghh!" screamed a Delta Force soldier.

The other Delta turned toward the disturbance and went down with a bullet in his head. The four remaining team members turned.

"Don't move or meatshield here dies!" said the enemy combatant.

"I suppose this means that your comrades have already surrounded us," said MacTavish, scanning the surrounding trees.

"Actually we got bored waiting for you and played a few rounds of Russain roulette. I, the great Nate, will be the victor after the rest of you have surrendered!"

"Eh."

MacTavish shrugged and opened fire with his assault rifle. Both enemy and Delta Force trooper went down.

"What?! Couldn't you have just shot the guy holding him? I've seen you do it before!"

"Didn't feel like it. Roast beef!"

"Oh, man, let's not start this up again! Right, Ghost?"

"I found my flask!" cried Ghost, holding it aloft, then taking a chug.

"At least this mission is over."

"Not yet. We still have to get out of here," said Nikolai.

"Okay, then. How far to the rendezvous?"

"About ten kilometers."

"What's that in miles?"


End file.
